Love's Not A Competion

Roman Holiday

"Why does everything have cheese on it?" Ricky asked while we looked at menus for our first dinner in Rome.

We thought we'd tick off as many cliches as early on as we could and decided to have pizza and pasta in a cute square near the Pantheon.

"That's what Italians do darling." I said as I pat his leg sympathetically.

At home he always had dairy replacements like sunflower spread instead of butter. I was glad I wasn't the only difficult eater in the relationship although I was vegetarian out of choice. He didn't have a choice in being lactose intolerant.

"You could ask for it 'senza formaggio' and I'll ask 'senza carne'" I told him.

"Ooo, get a load of you!" he laughed. "You speak the lingo!"

"I think that's about as much as I know. Then I somehow end up going Portugese!" I laughed.

"That's better than me!" he shrugged. "I try but I'm not very good. How come you speak Portugese?"

"Mum and Dad have a house there so we've been going there every summer for something like ten years." I replied.

After our meal without cheese and meat we walked back to our hotel eating little tubs of ice cream, dairy free sorbet in Ricky's case, and admiring the beauty of the city at night. I was glad I hardly ever wore heels and had only brought comfy shoes with me. There were so many hills, steps and cobbles in Rome. You could break an ankle in heels in this city! Or maybe that's just with uncoordinated people like me. I thought I might need a sports bra if we rented a scooter.

Our hotel was at the top of one of these hills and along the road from the Spanish Steps. To be honest I didn't find them that interesting. To me it was just a lot of steps with people sat on them. I didn't have time to see if they had a good view as I was too busy trying not to fall down them.

"You look like you're struggling, flower." Ricky pointed out as he caught up with me after taking a photo.

I really hoped that picture didn't feature my bottom as I climbed these bloody steps, weaving in and out of tourists. I wouldn't want him putting that on Instagram or Twitter for the whole world to see.

"My knees!" I puffed. "Can't take it!"

"Let me help you." he offered.

I thought he was going to take my hand and be gentlemanly. Instead he threw me over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

"No!" I squealed. "My dress'll blow up! Everyone'll see my knickers!"

"Woah, don't wriggle! You'll over balance me and we'll fall." he told me. "I've got your arse covered. No knickers yet."

"I'm going to kill you for this!" I growled. "Not the time or the outfit for it."

"You love it really!" he laughed and slapped my bottom.

I thought he'd let me down when we got to the top but he continued to carry me along the road. A few people stopped to look at us with shocked expressions as we passed.

"Rick, put me down!" I hissed and slapped his bottom. "We must be there already and you can't carry me through a posh hotel!"

"Fine!" he sighed and put me back on solid ground.

I straightened myself up and pulled the hem of my dress down. I turned around to see we were at the big front doors of the hotel where two doormen lifted their top hats to us. I blushed and hurried inside. My boots stomped a bit too loudly like tap shoes on the marble floor of the glistening and quiet foyer. Ricky followed after me and muttered apologies.